could you possibly do a harry blurb about like cuddling in the backseat with him at the end of a really long day?
He’s exhausted and his bones kind of ache whenever he moves and you’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open because you can’t remember a day’s felt so long before. But Harry always wraps his arms tightly around your middle, holding you against himself so you can rest your head on his chest or the crook of his neck. And it’s nice because you’re warm against him and your’e mumbling little compliments about how good the show was tonight or how you’re super proud of how far they’ve come and Harry’s too tired to duck his head so his crimson cheeks are all exposed and bright and you’ll reach up to thumb over his chest cheek before sticking your tongue out and making some comment about how he looks like a cranberry. ("A cranberry? Most people would you, like, an apple. Or a strawberry!" "Well, I’m not most people, am I?" "Hm. Nah, I s’pose not.") An Harry’s fingers will slip underneath the hem of your shirt, burning against your skin because such a simple touch from him always seems to light your whole body on fire. (And he’s still a bit warm from jumping around on stage only about an hour ago, but.) And Harry’ll lay himself down on the backseat and kind of wiggle his body, forcing his knees to bend up against the window so he can fit comfortably along the bench, and his head’ll be up on your lap and your fingers instinctively go to twirl around the little half curls at the top of his head and he’ll crane his neck so he can bat his eyelashes thankfully at you before he’s turning his head enough for his lips to push against your hip and his eyes are already feeling heavy because today has been the longest day in the world and you’re just too comfortable, like Play-Doh, and Harry feels so languid and settled, he doesn’t think he’s gonna wanna get out of the car when it finally pulls up to the hotel. (And Harry’ll make sure to tell you that. Always a “you’re really comfy” or “you make the best pillow”.) And he’s already sighing with content because these are the nights he lives for, you know? Playing for the arena full of people who love his music and the boys and scream so loud Harry sometimes wonder if you could still hear it up in space, in a brand new city and meeting hundreds of new people and coming back from it all to you and your familiar eyes and smooth hands and warm lips. And before you can say anything word or press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, Harry’ll already be snoring softly and huddling closer to you.
Kitten and her first laptop
I would literally throw last year’s version of myself down a set of stairs
when it’s the middle of the night and u hear ur parents waking up
what happened to old zealand
it’s not you’re* or your*. it’s all Mine. everything is Mine
current mood: tamagotchi after it poops
if I ever commit a murder I’m blaming this post